Chelios still steady after all these years

"Of course I remember my first NHL game.'' Chris Chelios gives you
that look, the one reserved for presumptuous moppets stupid enough
to take a run at him, perhaps judging just where you fit in on the
idio-meter. "Against Hartford. At Montreal. Seven seconds into my
first shift, we were scored on.''

"Of course I remember my first NHL game.'' Chris Chelios gives you that look, the one reserved for presumptuous moppets stupid enough to take a run at him, perhaps judging just where you fit in on the idio-meter. "Against Hartford. At Montreal. Seven seconds into my first shift, we were scored on.''

Not exactly an auspicious debut, a minus-1 after seven seconds . . .

"Hold on,'' he interjects. "I didn't say anything about a minus. Just that we were scored on. It was a power-play goal.

"Anyway, I came back to the bench and Larry Robinson and Rick Green and those guys were all laughing their heads off.''

March 8, 1984. Stick it in a time capsule.

Chris Chelios will turn 45 on Jan. 25. He's been a healthy scratch already this season. His minutes are down. His influence lessened. But he's still here. Still standing. Still ornery and outspoken and still Chelli.

Still the ultimate anarchist/rebel/villain. The Jack Nicholson of hockey. And like bad Jack, he's taken the metamorphosis from leading man to character actor in stride.

Even if some critics might argue he'd best be displayed in a Drumheller exhibit than on the Red Wings' blueline, he doesn't feel like a fossil.

"My age,'' Chelios sighs. "That's all anybody seems to want to talk about these days. Thank gawd Dom (Hasek) is around. With all that grey hair, he makes me look good.

"I've had my share of injuries over the years, but today, sitting here, I feel like someone who's never had a thing wrong with him.

"Eight years ago, in Chicago, I wondered how much longer I'd play. I hurt. It wasn't fun. Sounds crazy, I know, but I feel better now than I have in four or five years.

"I always said I'd play until I didn't feel good. Well, I still feel good.''

What can't be undervalued when ranking the Chelios longevity legacy is that this is a man who's been in more corners than Angelo Dundee. He hasn't exactly floated his way through these past 22 years. His game has never been predicated on effortless skating, like a Paul Coffey, or pure economy, like, say, a Mark Howe. Or overall efficiency, like a Ray Bourque.

Chelios is a warrior of the old-school. A go-out-on-his-shield kind of throwback player. Goodness knows he has the scars, and the trophies, to prove it.

"My game changed when I got to Detroit. Scotty (Bowman) didn't want me running around, skirmishes after the whistle, that kind of stuff. Even when Detroit was down two or three goals, they had the ability to come back. It wasn't like in Chicago with Mike Keenan or Darryl Sutter, when I was supposed to crack someone over the head with five minutes left to send a message or change the momentum.''

Not that he doesn't still enjoy that end of it, from time to time, just to keep his hand in.

"Chelli's competitiveness amazes everybody,'' says centre Kris Draper, a rambunctious sort himself. "He's always in great shape, usually down at the rink before anybody else gets there, riding the bike in the sauna. He does that cutting-edge training in the off-season in order to be ready.

"In '02, when we faced the Canucks, he went head-to-head against Bertuzzi. Not many guys bigger in the league than Bert, right? Chelli didn't just play him. He went after him. Shift after shift after shift.

"He loves the game. I know you hear that all the time. But to play as long as he has, the way he has, at the level he has, you have to really love it.''

Wings coach Mike Babcock insists the savvy more than makes up for the hard years of service.

"Whenever we have a young defenceman that needs settling down, we put him out there with Chelli.''

Nearing 45, Chris Chelios has watched as his contemporaries dropped away, one by way, either beaten down, used up or out of gas. Tom Barrasso arrived in the league the same year he did. So did Steve Yzerman, Hakan Loob and Sylvain Turgeon.

All are gone. But one.

"Stevie Y hit me hard,'' Chelios admits. "He broke into the league the same year I did. But, yeah, you watch Y-zie, Hullie, all those guys, retire and you're the only one left.

"I've been lucky. I love it in Detroit. I accepted less ice time to stay in the league, and to stay here. This is a great team, a great organization and we play the type of game, the high-tempo puck pursuit, that keeps it fun.''

Don't think the tough guy has softened up TOO much. Give him an opening and he'll still take potshots at the league for the absence of physical play the new rules has spawned, dwindling attendance figures and anything else that touches a nerve.

Even in the role of elder statesman, Chelios doesn't mind rattling a few cages.

"He's an inspiration,'' says Draper. "Guys in their mid-30s to late 30s see him still playing and wonder, 'If Chelli can do it, why can't I?'

"You ask him today if he's thinking about retiring at the end of the season and I can tell you what he'll say: 'No.' ''

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